‘Gets worse than this closer to the line,’ the driver shouted, swinging the wheel to the left to avoid a large box. ‘Sometimes it’s all you can do to keep moving.’
‘How close are we?’ Lucy asked. She peered through the mud-splattered windscreen at a flare that was slowly descending. As it faded the night to their right was lit up by flames from the muzzles of guns. They were firing so rapidly that the flash of their discharges merged into one continuous line of light. In the distance the explosions of the shells were more dispersed. Some shells were low, and the screech as they flew overhead penetrated the noise of the vehicle, but to Lucy’s surprise she was not afraid. She felt detached, a dispassionate observer of a nightmare.
‘The CCS I’m taking you to is about three miles back. Other
